Daria on Top
by Precambrian Studios
Summary: Daria Morgendorffer is a new student at Fielding Preparatory Academy, and she quickly gets to work at climbing the precarious social ladder. -Inspired by the works of Roentgen and Shiva.
1. Chapter 1

_So, today was the first day of school. I made sure I was all prepped and everything, I put all my cosmetics and cosmetic-accessories in kit and made sure they were secure inside my bag. When you wanna look good as good as moi, you have to be organized. My sister, she tries her best to look good, but she fails miserably in comparison to me. It makes sense, when you think about it: when you have hair that red, it's pretty damn hard to be taken seriously. She's like Ginny Weasley; fugly and impossible to take seriously. But enough about the little pustule, let's get back to moi!_

I had barely walked into math class and almost instantly, everyone was looking at me. Who wouldn't? I flipped my hair over my shoulder, but in a 'ugh, I can't believe I'm here,' fashion. There was this girl sucking on a lollipop, she gave me this stare. The kind of stare you'd give to Natalie Portman if you were Anne Hathway. You're pretty, but I exude sex appeal. I can't be beat. Even the teacher was staring. A quick glance at his crotch confirmed what I had already guessed.

And while most of the girls were looking at me because they wanted to be me, (and honestly, who wouldn't?) there were two people who didn't seem impressed. The first was this very emo-looking guy who had a cute earring in his left ear and hair covering his right eye. And then there was this girl with helmet-hair and a band across her head. The guy was rolling his eye (I say eye because I couldn't see the other) and the girl was sneering. I don't know why the girl wasn't impressed; maybe she doesn't care about looks. Loser. The guy was probably gay, that's my guess. All the normal people were so focused on me, they forgot the teacher was still taking notes. Doesn't matter; math is simple, and having a photographic memory helps too. This place will be under my heel in days.

After class, this one little runt of a middle-school accosted me, she immediately told me all about the impending election for the new Tops, and then explained to me what the Tops were, as if I didn't already know. This girl, she was trying her best to absolutely suck up to me.

Tell me something, honey.

Yes Daria?

Where'd you learn to dress up like that?

France!

Hm. Paris?

Um, no, Nice.

Then why the hell are you talking to me?

Um, I just thought you wanted to know-

Listen to me, sweetie, because you don't look like you have much in the way of class. If I were you, I'd go back to whatever hole you crawled out from, because once I'm running the show here, people who don't have what it takes to go to Paris are going to be thrown out on their asses.

This girl's lip started quivering, and the tears started flowing. I sneered; she looked absolutely dis-nasty with her makeup falling down her face. She looked like Bozo on a drug-bender. I left her there, sniveling on the ground. Can't be seen with that kind of dirt, now can we?

I'd tell you more, but I just saw this really cute guy with glasses, and I need someone to wrap around my finger, so to speak. Having some large equipment doesn't hurt either, so let's keep our fingers crossed, shall we?

Don't worry, you'll see moi later. Ta ta!


	2. Establishing Oneself

_I was in luck. Not only is this boy with glasses (his name is Patrick) unbelievably wealthy, but he also happens to be very, very malleable. He was googly-eyed for me the moment he set his eyes on me, and it was not long before we'd gone to his dorm and I had given him the time of his life. Wish I could say the same for me, but it was well worth the sacrifice, because now this little boy will have to do everything I say._

Patrick?

Yes, beautiful girl who has been blessed by the Gods?

I was just wondering, would you take me to Paris next weekend?

Next weekend? For how long?

About two hours. I need to pickup this new pair of shoes in Paris going for about a couple grand.

Two hours?! Man, I don't know….

But Patrick? Don't you like me?

Yeah, but…

Fine.

No! No! Don't go! Paris next weekend, totally!

Thank you so much, Patrick. I might even buy some new lingerie while I'm there too, just for you….

Undoubtedly, he will immediately tell all his friends we slept together, which will make me immediately known to the entire student body and cement my place as his girlfriend. And thus, I will have immediate access to any and all funds he has. He has a yacht. A goddamn yacht. Think of all the stuff I can buy…..agh, focus, darling, focus.

It was only an hour after we had gone up to his room that I left, running into that girl with the lollipop from math class, right outside Patrick's dorm. The fact that her eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped told me that she was his girlfriend. I smirked.

Wha-what the hell…...you ****ing ****, what the **** are you doing with Pat?!

I flipped what must have been some unacceptably messy hair over my shoulder. Just having a little fun, darling.

The girl screamed this high-bitch scream (yes, high-bitch, not pitch) and ran into Patrick's room and started shouting at him. Of course, I had to go in and defend him. If I didn't, then the next day this girl wouldn't have gone to all her little cronies and blabbed to them about me and Patrick's little liason together, thus confirming the rumor Patrick inevitably started.

By the end of the week, the name Daria Morgendorffer was written over the lips of every boy and girl in the school. Not surprising, wouldn't you agree?

While I was having my lunch (which was of course light and nutritious) this older-looking girl with long hair introduced herself to me as Flora Gwinnett. Dreadful name, but regardless, she told me all about the Tops, as if I didn't already know, and told me that I was a likely candidate to get in. LIKELY. I had never felt more insulted. But I smiled and told her thanks. She complimented me on my glasses and moved on.

My becoming a Topsienne will be inevitable, and thus, I will be untouchable. Heh, this is almost TOO easy.

I will have to watch that Patrick's former girlfriend, though. Never underestimate a woman scorned, as they say.

I assure you, next time you see moi, it will be on a throne. A metaphorical one, that is. Ta ta!


End file.
